


Dropping Into Step

by shaenie, sharkie335



Series: Lessons [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotions, M/M, Rimming, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenie/pseuds/shaenie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tony brought up the dreaded subject of emotions, Bruce has decided to take a chance on being with Tony and Steve.  But while he knows they work as a threesome, he doesn't know Steve as well.  So they have a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropping Into Step

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Cathalin for all her help with making this work! It would not be as good as it is without her keen eye.
> 
> Also, writing with shaenie is a joy :)

There were a lot of things Bruce had done over the last few years that he’d like to think would have prepared him for anything. Even in just the last few months, his sometime involvement in Steve and Tony’s relationship seemed like it should help him in this particular case.

He still found himself rifling with something like panic through his closet -- most of which had been stocked by Tony Stark -- without a single idea in his head regarding what he should be wearing on a date with Captain America.

A Date With Captain America.

The whole thing sounded bizarre in his head. Like he was a game show contestant that had somehow managed to make it to the final round.

“Steve,” Bruce said out loud. It helped a little. He was going on a date with Steve, who liked Orange Crush and pizza rolls slathered in ranch dressing. Steve, who woke up in the morning with one side of his hair sticking up in an improbable imitation of a muppet, and who liked to bite in the morning almost as much as he liked to kiss. Steve who liked complicated salads and straightforward meals.

This should not be so hard. It should especially not be so hard when Bruce had been the one to pick the place, and it wasn’t like there was a dress code, so there’s no way he could pretend he wasn’t dressing up for _Steve_.

He wandered over and sat on the side of his bed, trying to breathe deeply and settle himself down enough to approach this rationally. A suit would be too much for the venue. Even slacks and a button-up would probably be too formal. Jeans and a nice shirt would work, and Bruce already had a favorite pair of jeans.

They were his favorite mostly due to Tony’s comments regarding his ass, and also for the few times Bruce had caught Steve looking. 

So it was only a matter of a button up. He picked out a dark red -- again, mostly because Tony seemed to like it. Bruce himself just didn’t care that much about fashion. Being on the run for years would do that to you. Caring now made him a little anxious.

He slid the shirt on, buttoned it, and tucked it in. Picked a belt that was black, and thus matched everything.

Shoes... Well, there were a pair of Italian loafers in his closet that Bruce had never worn, so. They were magnificently comfortable.

He checked himself in the mirror again, under the guise of putting on his watch and stowing his wallet. He hesitated for a long moment, and then used a little of the product Tony had sworn by when he’d left it in his bathroom. It’s smelled a little spicy, but it did make Bruce’s curls calm down a little. He tried on a smile, and then reminded himself not to do that again. All it did was make him look terrified.

Unable to think of anything else to do -- and his watch said it was just about time -- Bruce left his room and took the elevator to the penthouse. He would have rather avoided Tony this first time, but he hadn’t been so stupid as to think it would work. Bruce was already self-conscious, and teasing was Tony’s default setting.

The elevator door opened, and he had a brief moment of relief to see that the living room was empty. It gave him another moment to silently panic before he had to interact with someone else. It didn’t last very long though, because Tony came into the room after a few seconds.

He paused at the door to the room and eyed Bruce up and down for a moment. Then he smiled and said, “I knew that you’d clean up pretty good.”

Bruce swallowed convulsively and gestured towards his clothes. “I guess I did okay, then?”

As he went to the bar to mix himself a drink, Tony grinned. “Trust me, you did fine. And I can guarantee that Steve is just as anxious about this as you are.” Before Bruce could absorb this piece of information, Tony turned to face the bedroom. In a high falsetto, he called out, “Steve! Your date is here!”

“Thanks, mom,” Steve yelled back, and the pure silliness of the exchange couldn’t help but make Bruce grin.

“You’ve been saving that up all day, haven’t you?” Bruce asked, laughing a little self-consciously.

“More like since the day that you two agreed to this in the first place,” Tony admitted with absolutely no shame. “Do you want a drink?” he asked.

Bruce did want a drink. He wanted a drink _very badly_. But he knew just how bad an idea that could be, because, given the way he was feeling, once he started, he wouldn’t stop until he was drunk enough to do something stupid. So instead he said, “Maybe a coke?”

Tony didn’t say anything, which surprised Bruce slightly. He just pulled a can out of the refrigerator and handed it over. “What, no more teasing?” Bruce asked.

All semblance of humor slid off of Tony’s face. “I don’t think you understand how much I really want this to work. Giving you a hard time right now would just backfire and make you even more uncomfortable, so no, no teasing right now. I do reserve the right to say ‘I-told-you-so’ at a later date.”

“So noted,” Bruce said, but before he could say anything further, Steve came into the room. It was hardly the first time Bruce had seen Steve in jeans, but he’d bet that Tony had had a hand in picking the shirt as it wasn’t one of the plaid monstrosities that Steve seemed to favor. And there was no question that Tony had done Steve’s hair, as it was styled to within an inch of its life.

“Hi,” Bruce said, and he could have kicked himself for how nervous he sounded. He’d slept with the man (admittedly, with Tony there as well); going out should not have been this nerve wracking.

Steve gave one of his blinding smiles. “Hi yourself,” he said. “You look good.” 

“Thanks. Uh. So do you.” 

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment, and then Tony spoke up. “Okay, dates only work when you, one, actually go _out_ , and two, _talk_ to each other. So go do both, all right?”

Both Steve and Bruce laughed a little, but Tony had succeeded at breaking the ice. Steve crossed the living room floor to the bar, brushed a quick kiss over Tony’s mouth, and then turned back to Bruce. “Shall we go?”

“Sure,” Bruce said, pushing the button for the elevator, which opened immediately. 

They got in, and as the door closed, Steve yelled out for Tony, “Don’t wait up!”

With the elevator doors closed, Bruce got an up close and personal version of the way Steve smelled. He’d smelled it before -- Steve always smelled great -- but maybe not this strongly, in such an enclosed space. Bruce hardly noticed the way he turned toward Steve, inhaling deeply, until he realized that Steve had his head tipped and was doing much the same thing.

“You smell great,” Steve said, apparently braver about those things that Bruce was; Bruce could feel himself flushing.

“If we make out in the elevator before the date even starts, we’ll never hear the end of it from Tony,” he said, and then flushed even harder, mostly in surprise that he’d even said it.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Steve said, lips quirked into a smile. “Talk to me instead. What’s the plan?”

“Uh, there’s an arcade bar just a few blocks away,” Bruce said, and then wondered if he had chosen badly from the blank look on Steve’s face. “It’s just, um, a regular bar, but it’s got all this open space for games. Darts and pool and basketball and video games. I thought.” He cleared his throat. “I thought since drinking isn’t a priority for you, it would give you something to do.”

Steve’s expression brightened. “I used to play pool,” he says. And as though in warning, “I’m pretty good.”

“I’m pretty good at some of it,” Bruce said, which was not entirely true. He was good at pool full stop, but he got the idea that Steve would be as good, if not better. The way he tossed around his shield was nothing but pure geometry, after all. “And there are other things that might be harder for you.”

Steved shrugged. “I like pool,” he repeated. “Even if there isn’t anything else.”

Some weight Bruce hadn’t been aware of shifted off his shoulders. They exited the lobby without anyone looking twice at them, and Bruce led them west down the sidewalk until they reached a crossing. Steve, surprising Bruce entirely, caught Bruce’s hand lightly. Bruce hadn’t been a part of any P.D.A. since Betty, and was too surprised to shake it off at first, and then the warmth of Steve’s big hand wrapped around his made the idea of shaking it off seem stupid.

They crossed the street at a quick clip -- it was a New York truism; the pedestrian lights were never quite long enough -- Bruce dragged into an awkward lope by Steve’s hand. When they were across, Bruce took him straight down four blocks, during which he felt too awkward to talk. Steve didn’t say anything either; Bruce wasn’t sure if he was grateful or disappointed.

Unlike most bars, Mickey’s was brightly lit. The bar itself was nestled up into one small corner, an indication that the bar wasn’t really how they made their money. 

“I’ll grab us some drinks,” Steve suggested. “You pick us up a table?” Bruce nodded. “What do you drink?” Steve asked. “I almost never see you drink at home.”

“It’s a rare indulgence,” Bruce admitted. “But I’ll take a gin and tonic with lime.” Bruce fumbled for his wallet.

Steve gave him a forbidding look. “You picked the place. I pick up the tab.” There was no room for argument in his face, so Bruce nodded his agreement and hoped he wasn’t blushing again.

He watched Steve make his way to the bar -- or, more accurately, he watched Steve’s ass as he made his way to the bar -- and then turned toward the tables. There was nothing empty, but he pulled out a twenty and laid it out on one side of a table that looked like the game was winding down. The two guys playing glanced at it.

“You want the table, or you want to play the loser?” one of them asked, giving Bruce a solidly unimpressed lookover. 

“I want the table, but I’m willing to play the loser for it,” Bruce said. It must’ve said something about the kind of people he’d been hanging out with lately, but the dismissive look was enough to get his hackles up. Hell, six months ago, Bruce would’ve sworn he didn’t even have hackles.

The two guys glanced at each other, and Bruce realized he’d managed to... to intimidate them or something. It couldn’t have surprised them anywhere near as much as it surprised him.

“Naw, man, we’re just about done,” said the one that hadn’t given Bruce that unimpressed look. His face was still more boyish than mannish, and he had an open smile that Bruce liked.

“Great, thanks,” Bruce said, and leaned back against the wall to wait.

Steve found him there with Bruce’s clear fizzy drink; he was holding a dark brown beer. Bruce arched his brows, and Steve shrugged. “I still like the taste,” Steve said.

“Of Guinness,” Bruce said, teasing lightly.

“It was the first alcohol I had after the...” He shrugs. “One of the Howling Commandos’ favorites. Just picked it up, I guess.”

Bruce tipped his glass. “To Tony not being here right now to mock us,” he said.

Steve grinned beautifully -- Steve had the best smile of anyone Bruce had ever met -- and added, “To not telling Tony anything about what happens tonight. No matter how hard he whines.”

Bruce grinned and they clinked their glasses together.

It was only a few minutes before the table cleared; the younger of the two players gave Bruce a little salute and said, “Good luck, man.”

Bruce racked the balls while Steve watched for a minute, and then went to the cue rack and spent a few moments looking over the cues. Bruce wasn’t at all surprised at being handed the better of the two Steve had selected. He might have objected if he’d been playing anyone else, but he wasn’t likely to win against Captain America, no matter how straight his cue was.

“Any new rules I should know about?” Steve asked.

Bruce considered it. He wasn’t sure how much the game had permuted since Steve had played it last, so he merely covered all the rules in quick, orderly fashion.

“Not that different,” Steve pronounced. “You break.”

Bruce didn’t argue. He set the cue ball on the dot, thought about physics, and cracked it into the tip of the triangle, pocketing both a stripe and a solid. Steve gave him arched eyebrows. “I’ll take stripes,” Bruce said. Steve waved a hand at the table in a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

Bruce managed an easy bank, and then a tougher side pocket, angling his blow to the cue ball to get it to hop up and over one of the solids. Now Steve looked impressed. Bruce tried to ignore it. It was too easy to lose his head for the game with Steve looking at him like that.

Ultimately it didn’t matter. He missed his next bank shot, and his only consolation was that it left the cue ball in the middle of a clutter on the table.

“Can you teach me to do that ball jumping trick?” Steve asked even as he circled the table, casing a shot.

“Not if I want a chance at winning this game,” Bruce said, and found himself smirking easily at Steve. “Next game, I promise.”

“I’m still going to win this game,” Steve said, sounding almost apologetic. 

“I never doubted it,” Bruce said. “The point wasn’t to win. The point was to do something with you that you’d enjoy.” 

Steve beamed at him across the table, and Bruce could feel the warm heat in his cheeks. Jesus, if this was how Tony felt all the time, no wonder he was... the way he was. More serious. More honest. Just... more. The wonder, really, was that Tony would welcome Bruce into their relationship at all.

He was brooding a little bit about that when Steve took his first shot. The cue ball slammed into a solid, ricocheted back into a stripe, barely moving it at all, and then spun forward and rocked another solid into the side pocket. Bruce was impressed. He became even more impressed when Steve circled around and bent over the table directly in front of Bruce. Steve paused there long enough to make Bruce wonder if it was deliberate, and then sent the cue ball on a blurringly fast trip from one bank shot that barely nudged one of his balls into the corner pocket, and then reeled backward to smack another ball into a pocket.

“That’s a hell of a spin,” Bruce said. “If you can do that, the jump should be child’s play.”

“I played some, but I learned mostly just watching,” Steve said. “Apparently being... well, me, disqualified me from playing anything for money.”

“You’d be a billionaire by now,” Bruce said, only exaggerating a little. He considered Steve’s last ball on the table. It’d be an easy shot; one even Bruce could have made without trouble. So he was totally aware of what Steve was doing when he deliberately missed it. “You...” he began, and Steve raised a hand in a languidly dismissive gesture.

“I’m here for you to play, too,” he said easily, smile tugging at his lips. 

Bruce tried to figure out if he was flattered or felt like he was being humored, and finally came up with a little of both. He lined up an easy shot, sank it, circled the table for something harder, and skimmed the ball so that it swerved around Steve’s lone remaining ball and sank another.

Steve seemed fascinated. “Can you teach me to do that?”

“It’s all physics and geometry,” Bruce said. “You’ve got the geometry down. The physics should be easy enough, with your hand-eye coordination.” He lined up and deliberately flubbed a shot.

Steve was looking at him with disapproval.

“So it’s okay if you do it, but not if I do?” Bruce asked, mildly, but he was actually faintly irritated.

“Of course it’s okay,” Steve said, his face so open that there was no possibility that he might be dissembling. “I just wanted... you know. To let you win the first one.”

Bruce was shocked to find himself laughing out loud. “Don’t worry about this. I think your super strength will work against you at skeeball, and I doubt you’ve got a lot of experience at Galaga. There are a ton of things here I can beat you at, Steve. I was already pretty sure that pool wouldn’t be one of them. I’m kind of looking forward to teaching you the trick shots, anyway.”

Steve laughed as well, and when Bruce moved the cue ball back to its original point, sunk the shot without another word.

The second game was less a competition and more of a demonstration as Bruce showed Steve how to do things like jumping balls, and Steve returned the favor. It was absolutely not a surprise that Steve picked it all up quickly. Generally, Bruce had to show him once, Steve would take a practice shot, and then on the one after that he’d actually improve on it.

By the time the last ball had been sunk, there was more of a crowd in the arcade, and there were several people waiting for tables. Amusingly enough, no one had actually tried to put money down on the table that Bruce and Steve were using. Bruce suspected it was because no one wanted to play either of them, and he really couldn’t blame them for that - they’d spent the last twenty minutes taking turns doing trick shots.

So they offered their table to the two young women leaning against the cue rack, and headed over to the skeeball area. “I remember these!” Steve said excitedly. “There was a set at Coney Island. I wasn’t too bad at them, either - used to beat Bucky all the time.”

Bruce grinned and dropped a quarter into the slot. The balls rattled into place. Steve picked up the first one, and proceeded to practically put it through the backboard. The look of shock on Steve’s face was priceless, and Bruce really wished that he’d had his phone out to snap a shot.

“Uh, I guess I haven’t played it since the serum,” Steve said, but he was smiling as well. “Techniques that worked for shrimp-me probably aren’t so beneficial here, huh?”

“Nope,” Bruce said. “Less force, more finesse.”

The second ball only scored at the lowest level, and so did the third. It wasn’t till the fifth roll that Steve seemed to be able to coordinate the right level of aim to hit some of the higher point targets, but when the game was over he only had a few tickets.

“My turn,” Bruce said, and then proceeded to wipe the floor with Steve, hitting the fifty point target ball after ball.

When the game was over and he’d tore off the stack of tickets he’d won, he turned to look at Steve. “Told you that I’d be pretty good at some of the stuff here,” he said.

Steve nodded. “That you did. Now, you mentioned other games. Should we give them a shot?”

Gradually they worked their way around the arcade. It quickly became apparent that Steve generally dominated the physically challenging games, and when they hit the basketball game, he’d gathered quite the following. It included one young man who was acting like he’d had a bit too much to drink. “I bet I could beat you,” he said, pushing between Bruce and Steve.

Bruce was annoyed. He hadn’t brought Steve here thinking that there’d be a brawl. In fact, this bar was one of the few bars in the area where he’d figured they’d be left pretty much alone. And now there was this asshole.

Steve just sighed. “Kid, I’m not getting into it with you. I’m here on a date and I’d rather spend time with him than cleaning up after you. Why don’t you go with your friends and play a game of skeeball.”

The idiot decided to push Steve, and for a moment, Bruce saw green flash before his eyes. It was stupid - Steve could more than take care of himself, there was no actual threat here, and yet Bruce was ready to bend this kid into a pretzel. 

All Steve did was push the kid away by a single hand on his shoulder, holding him far enough back that he couldn’t actually touch Steve. He swung a few times, missing by a mile each time, but finally a couple of his friends came and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him away.

Bruce really wanted to do... something, but when Steve turned to look at him, he was so clearly distressed that it dissolved the knot of tension that had formed in Bruce’s chest. “Sorry,” Steve said, voice soft. 

That just wasn’t right. It wasn’t _Steve’s_ fault that a drunk asshole decided to rain on their parade, and Steve apologizing calmed Bruce like nothing else would have. “Not your fault,” he said. “How about we have another drink?” Tony’s words played in his head, and before he knew it, an echo of them came out of his mouth. “Maybe we should spend some time, um, talking?”

“Yeah, we could do that. But maybe we could go somewhere a little quieter and grab a bite to eat?” 

Now that Steve had mentioned it, Bruce decided that it would be a good idea. Steve needed to eat enough for four because of his metabolism, and most restaurants would be quieter than the bar was at this point.

So they headed out the door, only to be stopped by one of the asshole’s friends. “Hey,” the kid said. “Just wanted to say thank you for not mopping the floor with Jay. He’s a good guy, but he’s definitely had too much to drink.” 

Bruce nodded, not really wanting to deal with this again, but Steve smiled. “Glad it didn’t come to that,” Steve said, and then they were out the door into the cool night air.

Bruce searched his mind for something in the area that would work for both eating and talking. “I know a great sushi bar a couple of blocks over. It’s a tiny place, should be good for talking.”

“And sushi is raw fish,” Steve said, though Bruce knew Steve already knew that. Bruce and Tony had consistently let Steve shoot them down over take out sushi.

“The worst that happens is you don’t like it, and we go eat somewhere else,” Bruce said easily. “If sushi is the worst thing I ever do to you, I’ll be grateful.”

Steve heaved a big sigh. “All right. But only because I’m doing this to seduce you.” 

Bruce’s head jerked up, and Steve shot him a delightedly evil grin. Bruce was grinning back before he could stop himself. He had a brief and violently sexual image of being deliberately seduced by Steve, and then wasn’t sure if he was guilty that Tony had been nowhere in that image, or if it made a kind of sense. They couldn’t all be present all of the time. They had to work in any combination. That was the whole point to this.

This time Bruce took Steve’s hand, and caught Steve blushing a little bashfully at him, but smiling his killer smile at the same time.

If Bruce couldn’t navigate his way to the sushi bar in his sleep, he probably would have gotten them both lost, paying more attention to Steve than he was to things around him.

As it was, Steve still pulled him to a stop in front of the building. “This?” he asked. “I can smell it,” he said apologetically.

“Does it smell bad?” Bruce asked, abruptly concerned that Steve’s heightened sense of smell might be the reason he avoided sushi in the first place.

“No.” Steve’s stomach rumbled. “Not bad at all. It smells good.” The look he turned on Bruce was sheepish. “I just. You know. Never.”

“No pressure,” Bruce said. “Least of all from me. We’ll order what smells good to you, I’ll order some things I know I like, and we can share. If it turns out not to be your thing, there’s a pizza place a little further on.”

Steve nodded and held the door open for Bruce. Bruce blushed, but ducked inside. Steve made the tiny restaurant look even smaller with his sheer bulk, but Ishi, the wife of the chef and owner, didn’t appear worried at all. 

“Bruce!” she said, pleased, and allowed Bruce to lean down and peck her cheek. “It’s been many weeks.”

“I know, Ishi, I’m sorry. I don’t always get out as often as I want to,” Bruce said.

“You need a table? I have one open very soon.” She looked around confidently. The restaurant only had four tables. It could have fit more, maybe as many as eight, but Ishi insisted that her guests have enough space and privacy. And if privacy wasn’t an issue -- it usually wasn’t for Bruce -- there were plenty of seats at the bar.

Bruce threw a glance at Steve and shifted his feet. “Please, Ishi. A table would be great.”

Ishi beamed at Bruce. “You introduce your friend?”

“Ishi, this is Steve Rogers. We, uh. He and I are.”

Ishi patted Bruce’s cheek, then patted Steve’s (he had to lean down for her to do it, and she beamed at him for the courtesy).

“Not my business, of course,” she said, her plump cheeks bright with her smile. “It is good just to see you not alone.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said awkwardly.

“Sit at bar for five minutes,” she said, urging Bruce toward it. “I have table ready for you then.”

Bruce went and sat, and Steve sat down next to him. “Is she going to throw someone out so you can have a table?” Steve asked, though not as though he disapproved. More as though he was impressed.

“It’s more like she’ll just encourage them to finish,” Bruce said. “And in a restaurant this small, it’s bad form to linger and take up space other patrons might need. I know by sight most of the people that come here, and they would never resent Ishi for rushing them a little.”

Steve shifted a little. “They all look like they know you, too,” Steve said. “Everyone is looking this way.”

“That’s because you’re absolutely gorgeous,” Bruce said absently as he tried to get a look. But Steve was right. They were paying as much attention to Bruce as they were to Steve. They recognized him; they knew he always came alone.

“Say that again,” Steve said, leaning into Bruce’s shoulder.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” Bruce repeated obediently, with a little smile. “I know you don’t need me to tell you that. I hear Tony say it at least a dozen times a day.”

Steve shrugged a little. “But you don’t,” Steve said. “It’s different. Tony says it twelve times a day because his life moves so fast, like rushing water. He’s afraid he hasn’t said it yet or is afraid he’ll forget to say it because time doesn’t work the same way for him as it does for regular people. You don’t run like that. You never rush like that. You’re subtle and secret. I like exploring you. You surprise me. Even that first time, you surprised me.”

“You thought I wouldn’t help?” Bruce asked.

“No. I thought maybe you weren’t interested. I thought you might explain things to me. I didn’t think you’d... participate.” Steve smiled. “Grateful to be wrong, by the way.”

Bruce stayed silent for several seconds, considering. “You knew I wanted Tony,” he finally said.

“I didn’t know,” Steve admitted quietly. “I... I hoped. I was kind of counting on, well. On everyone wanting Tony.”

Before Bruce could respond, Ishi brushed up beside Bruce, two menus in her hands. “Come this way,” she directed, smiling. Bruce and Steve abandoned their seats at the bar and followed her.

The table was the one furthest from the front of the building, tucked into a corner. There was a candle lit in the center, and glasses of ice cold water beading with condensation. “Will you have wine?”she asked.

“Any preference?” Bruce asked Steve. “Wine is good with sushi. So is sake.”

“I’ve never had sake,” Steve says.

“We’ll go with your best Gewurztraminer and hot sake,” Bruce said. “And we’ll start with a sampler, a little of everything.”

Ishi smiled indulgently. “I know how you eat. Your friend is the same?”

“My friend is worse,” Bruce said wryly. “But we’re not sure what he likes. It’s his first time having sushi.”

Ishi’s eyes brightened. “We will convert you,” she said, going for ominous and only hitting motherly.

“I’m certainly willing to try, ma’am,” Steve said with his megawatt smile.

“I will return shortly with drinks and a starter platter,” she said, and rushed around the counter to talk to her husband excitedly. Mister Yagi -- Bruce had never been invited to use his first name -- glanced over at them, looking at Steve thoughtfully.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. “Between the two of them, I’m going to have to roll you out of here.”

The wine and the sake appeared as if by magic, along with a small wooden tray with eight pieces of sushi.

Steve eyeballed it; Bruce saw his nostrils flaring, and had to make a serious effort not to laugh.

Bruce poured Steve a small glass of sake, and then poured himself a glass of wine. “That’s for you,” Bruce said, indicating the plate. “Make sure you take note of what you really like. Ishi will base the full platter on what she already knows I prefer and what you enjoy off the platter. Ishi gave you a good starter plate. There’s only one piece of sashimi, which is the only thing I’m not sure you’ll care for.” He nudged the platter closer to Steve. “Give it a try?”

Steve looked at the platter. “What about all this stuff on the side?” he asked, and Bruce explained about soy sauce, ginger and wasabi.

Steve knocked back his little glass of rice wine, and smile tentatively. “I like it. It’s warm.”

Then he picked up his chopsticks and used them with delicate and obvious skill, though Bruce had never seen him use them before; not even with Chinese. Steve always went for a fork. But Steve scooped up a spicy tuna roll, considered it, and then tentatively brought it up to his lips. Bruce found himself watching Steve’s mouth almost as much as the sushi, and picked up his glass of wine to cover it.

Steve chewed carefully, but Bruce could already see his surprise and delight. Bruce tried to hide a smile behind his glass, but Steve looked up and caught it. He smiled sheepishly back, but went back to the platter with his chopsticks.

“Try the soy sauce,” Bruce suggested, and watched Steve dip carefully, and then slide the roll into his mouth. Steve’s smile was wide and bright now.

“Okay, I apologize for all the times I wouldn’t let you order sushi,” he said, after he’d polished off the platter, including the sashimi, which he’d seemed to like just fine. “Although I feel like I should tell you, I think I could eat about forty plates that size.”

Bruce grinned. “Wait ‘til you see the size of the platter.”

Ishi checked in with them, grilling Steve mercilessly on what he’d liked best and why, and then disappeared again behind the counter. Mister Yagi was bouncing around like a pinball behind it, slicing and rolling and chopping.

A few moments passed in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Bruce didn’t really want to break the mood, but felt like he had to address what Steve had said earlier. “I do want Tony,” he said quietly enough that Steve tipped closer to listen. “But it was never about just Tony. Not only are you gorgeous, but you’re also a wonderful person. And it wasn’t even that. The two of you, what you have. Well. Anyone would want to be a part of that. The two of you together is what really compelled me at first.”

Steve gave him a long, serious look. “And is it still that? We don’t have to do this, Bruce.”

“If it were still that, I would have said no, Steve,” Bruce said gently.

Steve’s cheeks were pink. "I had hoped that that was the case, but to be honest, I sometimes have trouble reading you. Tony's much better at it, and he was pretty insistent that this was something you would be interested in. I just mostly hoped that you wouldn't stop being with us if we asked for more."

Bruce smiled a little. "Honestly, If I was ever going to be able to back off -- and I'm not sure I really ever could have -- it would have been after the first time." Steve looked faintly surprised, and Bruce shrugged one shoulder. "It was something I thought I could do for the two of you without being personally invested. We weren't even halfway through before I knew it was too late not to be invested. I thought about staying out of it, after, but. I knew I wasn't going to be able to. Not if you asked."

"I'm glad we asked you back, then," Steve said with a smile. He took another sip of his sake. "I have a pretty good guess on how you feel about Tony by himself, and it's nice to hear that you're into both of us together, but that still leaves the two of us. From the conversations that I had with Tony, this can work even if you and I aren't, um, what did he call it? One of the points of the triangle? But I think that if we're not, eventually someone's going to get hurt and jealous."

Bruce took a minute to think about that. "I think as long as we all know the reality of the situation, we can work it out. I can't say..." He paused, because he didn't want to hurt Steve, but he didn't want to _lie_ to Steve either. "I want you. Apart from Tony, I mean. And I like you more than I've ever liked anyone apart from Tony. But I haven't spent time with you the way that he has, and I'm not. I love you, Steve, but I'm not _in love_ with you. Not yet."

"Fair enough. Love can happen quickly sometimes, but I think it's usually something that has to grow. God knows it took time for Tony to grow on me to the point where I didn't want to strangle him in his sleep." Steve chuckled. "I only think it had a chance to do that because Tony hardly ever sleeps. I'm not asking you to be in love with me right now. But do you think that that's something that might happen?"

Bruce had spent hours pondering that question in the privacy of his own mind. "Will it happen for you?" he asked, knowing it wasn't fair to deflect the question with one of his own, but suddenly nervous about his own answer. If Steve said no, Bruce could still bow out gracefully, and he would be absolutely heartbroken, but he could manage it. He couldn't quite manage an answer for Steve until he knew Steve's feelings.

Steve's smile was small and a bit sad. "I've only been in love a few times in my life. The first time was with Bucky, but I always thought of it as more a brother thing, and then he fell, and I lost my chance to find out. Then there was Peggy, but the war cut that short." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I love Tony - there's no question in my mind. You? …” Steve paused and fiddled with his water glass for a second before looking back and saying, "I've been... I think I already do love you, but I've been trying to hide those feelings, even from myself, because losing another person I love isn't something that I think I can handle."

Bruce opened his mouth -- he wasn't sure what he was going to say, he was so surprised -- and Ishi took that moment to return with an enormous platter of mixed rolls. Bruce just let her arrange the table, though normally he would have helped. He was aware of Steve doing so. But he felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. There was a hard, hot knot behind his breastbone, and he settled his hands on his thighs, though he could still feel them shaking. Steve loved him. Steve already loved him. Steve, and he thought about the kind of balls it must have taken for Steve to come to Bruce that first time, knowing what he wanted, offering up what he loved to Bruce with no idea of how Bruce would react, really. Steve had trusted him then, though. Already.

The knot behind his breastbone throbbed. He wasn't in love with Steve. Not yet. He hardly knew Steve. Except that wasn't true. They've all spent hours together every day since things started picking up between the three of them, and not all of them included sex. He knew Steve. He knew how effortlessly good he was, how strong, and he knew when Steve was uncertain and needed support or comfort, just like he knew those things about Tony. He knew Steve. "I think," Bruce said hoarsely, and looked up to be sure they were alone again before he continued. Steve was watching him, eyes both shrewd and gentle. "I think I've been withholding. I mean. Keeping my distance. If I wasn't going to be permanent, just getting over Tony would be." Bruce didn’t have the words to describe how it would be. "Adding you to the potential loss was..." He looked at Steve helplessly. "I don't have anything in the world but the two of you," he half-whispered.

"Oh, Bruce…" Steve said, reaching out a hand towards him. Steve didn't grab at Bruce but he made his intent clear, leaving it up to Bruce to reach those last few inches and take Steve's hand. "No matter what happens, you won't lose us, okay? And that's not quite true about being alone. I know it's not the same thing, but the whole team is in this together."

Apparently the look on Bruce's face made it clear what he thought of that, which made Steve grimace a little. "I believe that we all love each other, at least a little, because otherwise we _wouldn't work_ , so no matter what, you wouldn't be alone. But I think that what the three of us already have - and could have more of - is special, and something that we should reach for, because love is _always_ worth it, even when it hurts. Maybe sometimes especially when it hurts. I know what it’s like to lose people you love, and I still wouldn’t trade loving them for anything."

Bruce wanted to explain the way he'd lost his whole life, how he'd lost Betty, how he'd lost himself, but it would be ridiculous. If anyone already understood that, it was Steve. He reached out and took Steve's hand. Steve's fingers went tight around his for several seconds, and then were just warm and gentle. Steve's expression was so wrenchingly open that Bruce felt like he could fall into it. 

"I want this, with you, and with him," Bruce said. "I've wanted it from the beginning. I'm not giving it up unless one of you tells me I have to. I don't have to wonder if I'm going to fall in love with you, Steve. I know I am. I'm already most of the way there. I just have to believe it's going to work. If I believe it, I can let myself have all of it." He wanted to say more, explain better, but wasn't sure how. "But you have to know, I'm like you. I'm like you, in that I can't stand to lose anyone else. And that kind of pain would lead to..." He didn't finish, but he was pretty sure Steve understood what he meant.

Steve squeezed his fingers again, just lightly. "You don't have to worry about losing us. I think I can promise that." Just then Ishi swung by the table, bringing more sake for Steve, and made distressed noises over the fact that the food was untouched. It effectively broke the moment enough that Bruce felt like he could breathe again. He smiled at Ishi and said, "Sorry. We just got lost in conversation." Letting go of Steve's hand reluctantly, he picked up his chopsticks to select a piece of tuna roll. "I promise we'll eat it all and probably want more."

The knot behind Bruce's breastbone unraveled into a warm sort of ache, and he was abruptly ready to get out of the restaurant. They hadn't discussed what they'd do _after_ the date, but Bruce was suddenly over-warm with ideas. And, as much as he loved Tony, none of those ideas involved him. He wanted to get Steve alone and find out how things would unfold with just the two of them. He had to shift in his chair to settle himself down below the belt, and then he had to remind himself that he was still hungry -- though he could probably wait to eat, considering -- and that Steve was almost certainly starving. He put down his chopsticks, considered the platter, and blurted, "Sleep with me tonight. Just with me. I want to see..."

Steve's smile this time was unfettered by sadness. "Tony told me that he didn't expect me home tonight," he said. "I think if I tried to go home without you, Tony would get the suit and drag me down to your apartment. Besides, I'd kinda like to see what we get up to together without Tony pushing us around."

Bruce tried on a smile, decided it felt right, though a little unsteady, and said, "We should really eat. If you're still hungry after this, we'll get some more to go."

Steve nodded. "I - I'd say skip it, but I think we'll enjoy whatever we do more if we're not listening to my stomach growl. So yes, let's eat, and then let's get out of here." 

The blush on his face must have been epic from how hot he got, but Bruce just tried to keep smiling as he dragged a piece of sashimi through the soy sauce. "I think that sounds like a good plan."

Bruce was a little afraid the rest of the meal would be awkward, but that turned out not to be true at all. Another glass of wine had Bruce feeling loose and warm, but it was really Steve. Bruce’s chopsticks hardly got a workout at all. Steve would try a bite of a roll, make pornagraphic noises at how good it was, and then would scoop up a bite of the same one and feed it to Bruce. Bruce did the same occasionally, with rolls he particularly liked that Steve hadn’t gotten to yet, but mostly let Steve do it, since he seemed to take so much pleasure in it.

Bruce forced Steve to try his Gewurztraminer, which Steve seemed pleased and surprised by. “It’s so light,” he said, brows arched. 

“It’s my favorite,” Bruce said. “How hungry are you still? We’ve pretty much decimated this platter.”

Steve looked torn, and Bruce couldn’t help but smile and blush a little.

“We can get a to go order,” Bruce assured him, and bumped Steve’s knee with his under the table.

Steve looked at him with suddenly dark eyes. “Ready to go, are you?” he asked, not quite teasing, but a little smug.

“Tell me you’re not,” Bruce demanded, and Steve’s eyes widened a little. “I’m not Tony,” Bruce said. “Things will work differently between us.”

Steve’s eyes widened a little more, and then he just looked intrigued. “Let’s get that to go order,” he agrees.

Ishi packed them three plastic sacks of styrofoam containers, chattering away about how much they’d managed to pack away, and how glad she was to see Bruce, and how she hoped to see Steve again, soon, too. 

Bruce stole the check while Steve was trapped by Ishi, because he knew she was one of her favorites, and suspected that him coming in here with a date was likely to make his check exponentially lower than it really should be. He took it up to pay Mister Yagi, and tacked on a two-hundred dollar tip.

“She will hit me with a broom for this,” Mister Yagi told him, but he was giving Bruce an approving look. 

“If I’m ever broke and starving, I’ll come here,” Bruce said seriously. “But as long as I can pay my own way, I will, and as long as I have the extra to spare, I’ll tip extravagantly.”

“Is good to hear,” Mister Yagi said quietly. “Most people not so conscientious these days.”

“I won’t take advantage of people who have been good to me,” Bruce said quietly.

Steve sidled up beside him, frowning. “I thought I picked up the check; we agreed.”

“Tell you outside,” Bruce said, and Steve tipped his head at Bruce and then nodded his agreement.

Ishi pressed mints in both their hands, suggesting that sushi-breath was inappropriate for some activities, and Bruce surprised himself by bursting into laughter.

Steve’s laughter rumbled along with his, but they both obediently opened their mints and popped them in their mouths. Ishi leaned up to kiss Bruce’s cheek and Steve leaned down so that she could kiss his.

“So handsome,” she said admiringly. “And such a gentleman. Keep this one,” she told Bruce, her tone lightly scolding. Bruce could see Steve blushing out of the corner of his eye.

“Going to try,” Bruce assured her, and she grasped his hand tightly between both of hers. 

“I only want to see you happy,” she told him.

“I know,” Bruce says, awkward and touched. “I’m working on it.”

When Ishi finally let herself back into the restaurant, Steve was smirking a little, holding all three plastic bags in one hand. “How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” Bruce asked.

“Turn strangers into friends like that. I’ve seen it before. At that tea shop you go to, and the farmer’s market. They all know you and look out for you.”

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say. “I treat them like people,” he said finally. “Not service staff. Just. Like people.”

Steve smiled. “That’s one of the things I like about you,” he said. “Sometimes, when I spend too much time with Tony, I forget that his way of doing things comes from a very special place, a place without enough human interaction.”

All Bruce could do was nod a little uncomfortably. He’d noted the same thing, but his one-on-one time with Tony tended to be in the lab, where it was just the two of them anyway. He suspected that if this worked out, that would change, and maybe, just maybe, between Steve and himself they could teach Tony how the rest of humanity handled social interaction. Or maybe not. Maybe it was all part of Tony’s insane charm. 

Either way, in the meantime, they had tentative plans for the evening, and now that dinner was over, he was pretty eager to see exactly how that would play out. “So, back to the tower?” he asked.

“Hell, yes,” Steve said with a grin. Still holding the bags in one hand, he took Bruce’s hand in the other and started walking at a fast clip back to the tower. Evening foot traffic was crowded, but Steve seemed to effortlessly slide them through the gaps in the crowd, and they were home before Bruce expected.

The private elevator opened at their approach, and as the door slid shut, Bruce said, “Jarvis, my floor. And, uh, don’t tell Tony we’re back, okay?”

Steve eyed him curiously, but didn’t countermand the instructions. Instead, he leaned down and brushed a kiss across Bruce’s cheek. “Thank you for our date,” he said.

Baffled, Bruce pressed his hand to his face where Steve had kissed him. “It’s not over yet, is it?” he asked, confused.

“Well, no, but I didn’t want to forget to thank you,” Steve said bashfully. “I’ve had a really good time so far, and my mother taught me to be appreciative when people are thoughtful.”

Bruce couldn’t help the tiny giggle. “If you’re thinking of your mother right now, I’m not doing something right,” he said. “I should fix that.” Putting his hands on Steve’s shoulders, he tugged him down so that he could give Steve a better, longer, wetter kiss.

It only ended when the door to the elevator opened on Bruce’s floor, and even then it took them a few seconds to realize that they could get off. The door slid shut silently behind them.

Letting them into his quarters, Bruce tried to stay calm. The last time - the _only_ time - that Steve had been in his apartment was when he’d come to ask for lessons in bondage for Tony. All of their intimate encounters had occurred in Tony’s penthouse apartment, with Tony as a buffer. This time it was just the two of them, and he had to admit that it was making him more than a little nervous.

The door swung shut behind him, and he turned to Steve, intending to take the sushi and put it in the refrigerator. But instead, Steve took him by the shoulders, and pulled him in, giving him a kiss that was just as full as promise as Bruce’s had been in the elevator. This time, there was nothing to interrupt them, and the kiss seemed to go on and on, only ending when Bruce was breathless and shoving his burgeoning erection against Steve’s thigh.

When Steve let go of him, Bruce took a deep breath, trying to clear some of the lust-haze that was fogging his brain. “Food. We need to - “

Steve seemed to remember that he was holding the bags from the sushi place, and nodded. “Refrigerator?”

“Yeah.” Bruce started to reach for the bags, only to have Steve move out of reach, already on the way to the kitchen. He watched as Steve stashed them in the refrigerator, before returning to where Bruce was standing in the living room.

He came to a stop about a foot away, and just stood there, long enough that Bruce started to worry. Bruce wanted to try to wait him out, but it was strange enough that he found himself asking, “Steve?”

“I just figured - “ Steve hesitated, and then charged on like he needed to get something out all at once. “When it’s the three of us, Tony decides what we do. Or sometimes I do. But you never ask for anything for yourself. So. What is it that _you_ want?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, not because he didn’t know what he wanted, but because he wasn’t sure Steve was interested in it. “I’ve been with you and Tony,” he said finally. “I’ve seen a lot of what you do, and I’ve participated in some of it. But I still don’t know everything. I know you fuck Tony. But I don’t know if Tony fucks you, or whether you like it like that.”

Steve’s gaze flickered a little uncertainly, but he answered right away. “He has. Just. A couple of times.” He rolled one broad shoulder and looked away, as though embarrassed. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said, but he was frowning. “It’s more like... well. You know Tony.” He turned his gaze back to Bruce, searching for something in his face. “It was always like... by the time I started to like it, it was pretty much over.” There was a blush high on his cheeks.

Bruce was pretty sure he understood, and was in the unusual position of wanting to shake Tony a little. He knew it was pointless. He could see how being in the position of fucking Steve, who was still innocent in so many ways, would cause anyone to lose it a little prematurely. 

Still, Tony should have tried harder to make sure that Steve was enjoying himself as much as Tony clearly had. Not doing so was just unfair to Steve. “Well, I hope I can show you how good it can be, if that’s something you’re willing to try?” he said, rather than indicating how much he wanted to rattle Tony’s teeth.

“I am,” Steve said, which encouraged Bruce to take this a bit further. He stepped in so close that Steve’s hands automatically drifted up to his waist, and then leaned in further until Steve closed the distance between their mouths. His lips were warm and soft, and he opened his mouth readily for Bruce’s tongue. Bruce could tell when Steve stopped thinking about being defensive by the way his stance firmed, pulling Bruce tight up against him, and the kiss deepened heatedly. Bruce wasn’t surprised that Steve’s teeth came into play -- he’d probably learned to kiss from Tony, and Tony wouldn’t have hesitated to use teeth -- and it was good, but he pulled back a little from it anyway. Steve seemed to understand without an explanation. Things stayed wet and hot, soft flesh and moist breaths. 

Bruce slipped his fingertips under the hem of Steve’s shirt and inched it upward; Steve’s skin was hot and smooth and perfect, and Bruce groaned a little at the feel of it. It wasn’t that he never got to touch Steve. But when it was the three of them, it was mostly about touching Tony, satisfying Tony, comforting Tony, who needed so much. Bruce didn’t begrudge Tony that in the least, and definitely wanted to be a part of that, but touching Steve like this was so good Bruce thought maybe he’d been wanting it without letting himself think about it for a while. He swept his palms up Steve’s back. Steve sighed into Bruce’s mouth, and then pulled slightly away.

Bruce blinked at him, mouth open to ask if he was okay, but Steve murmured, “I feel like I’ve never had the chance to really look at you naked,” like it was a confession. “I mean, I know there’s been nudity, but there never seems to be time to just look.”

Since Bruce knew exactly how he felt, he took a half-step away. “Bedroom?”

Steve dropped a hand down to twine his fingers with Bruce’s and nodded with a little smile on his lips. Bruce led the way, familiar enough with the space that he didn’t have to pay much attention to get them there, which was good. Most of his attention was focused on Steve’s flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. Bruce was glad he was a tidy person by nature, as once they reached the bedroom, there was nothing to trip or fumble over. He paused next to the end of the bed, fingers still twined with Steve’s. “How do you want to do this?”

“Can I,” Steve paused and licked his lips. “Can I undress you?”

“You can do anything you want, Steve,” Bruce said, and meant it. He was determined to fuck Steve, and to make it so good that Steve wouldn’t remember ever thinking being fucked wasn’t one of the best things to have happened to him, but how they got there was just as important. Bruce wasn’t built like Steve (not that anyone was except, perhaps, for Thor), wasn’t even built like Tony, but if it would make Steve happy to unwrap him like a present, Bruce was happy to let him. He tugged his fingers away from Steve and spread his arms. “However you want to.”

The look Steve gave him was heated enough to bring a blush to Bruce’s face, and for a moment he wished he _was_ built like one of the other Avengers, for Steve’s sake, but the feeling didn’t last long. He was what he was, and both Tony and Steve had known that from the very beginning.

So he was tense more from arousal than nerves when Steve reached out and tugged the tails of his shirt free of his jeans. Steve’s movements were slow and sure as he went to work on the buttons, though his mouth was open and his breath was quick. Being the sole target of Steve’s attention was enough to quicken Bruce’s breath as well, and when his shirt fell open and Steve ran his hands up Bruce’s chest to push it off his shoulders, Bruce’s skin prickled warmly. Steve caught the shirt before it could fall, draping it across Bruce’s reading chair, and Bruce smiled a little. It was a very Steve thing to do.

He stopped smiling when Steve went to work on Bruce’s belt. The tug and pull was close enough to Bruce’s erection to make it throb. Steve rolled up the belt and dropped it on top of the shirt.

Steve’s eyes were dragging over Bruce’s naked chest, but he didn’t stop to touch, which Bruce wouldn’t have minded at all. Instead he worked on the button of Bruce’s jeans, the backs of his fingers brushing fleetingly against Bruce’s cock. Bruce waited for Steve’s big hands to drag down his jeans, but instead Steve went down on one knee, his attention diverted to Bruce’s shoes. Bruce took a deep breath and realized with real surprise that he was impatient.

Bruce was almost never impatient. He’d had no choice but to cultivate an immense capacity for patience. But with Steve so close and so thorough and so gorgeous, he was impatient. Not for the fucking, either. Just impatient to see what Steve would do, once he had Bruce naked and vulnerable.

He tried to ignore it, lifting one foot so that Steve could remove his shoe and sock, and then the other when Steve’s hands urged him to. Steve on his knees in front of Bruce was enough to make desire knot in the pit of his belly, and when Steve didn’t stand up when he reached for the waist of Bruce’s jeans, Bruce had to bite off an almost-moan. Steve pulled down the zip and pressed Bruce’s jeans open; Bruce’s cock throbbed at the release of the pressure his jeans had been putting on it, and strained as though it was making an effort to escape Bruce’s underwear as well.

Steve caught the waist of Bruce’s jeans in both hands, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his underwear as well, and peeled them down Bruce’s legs in one quick, competent motion. Bruce stepped out of them automatically -- he was barely aware of doing it, most of his attention focused on Steve’s face, at the blatant look of lust Steve was regarding him with -- and he wasn’t quite ready for Steve to slide his hands around Bruce’s legs, fingertips dragging up the backs of his knees. Steve’s hands were incredibly warm and Bruce had never really gotten over being touch starved.

Where Steve was touching him hardly seemed to matter. It was the way Steve was touching him. The way his big hands pulled along the muscles in Bruce’s thighs and gripped at his hipbones. The way he slotted his fingers along Bruce’s ribs and let out some of his strength, squeezing in what was almost a two-handed hug.

“You’re so lean,” Steve said hoarsely, which Bruce ordinarily might have reacted to negatively -- he knew he was too thin, had never been able to really keep up with his own enhanced metabolism -- but there was something about the way Steve sounded, something his voice made clear was a compliment, and nothing else. He wondered if Steve enjoyed Bruce’s slighter body in part _because_ it was something he wasn’t. The idea seemed strange, but Bruce liked it.

Steve skated a kiss along Bruce’s hipbone, warm and wet, and Bruce let out a soft sound of pleasure. Steve looked up at him, eyes very blue and a little turbulent. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?” he asked. It was a question, but there wasn’t much doubt in Steve’s face. There also wasn’t anything that looked like uncertainty or hesitation. “That’s the thing you want for you?”

“I do,” Bruce said hoarsely. “But I want you to enjoy whatever we do more, so if you don’t want that, we don’t have to do it.” It was actually a little painful to give Steve the out, but there was no way Bruce could _not_ do it. He’d never forgive himself if Steve did something he didn’t enjoy because Bruce asked him to.

“You said things would be different than they are with Tony,” Steve said. He drew his hands slowly down Bruce’s body until his hands were cupping his ass. Steve’s expression is earnest. “I _want_ things to be different.”

Bruce heard it clearly for what it was. When Tony was involved, Steve was either in charge or on top, with only a few exceptions. Sometimes he was both. Steve was asking for it to be different, with Bruce. Asking, maybe, to be allowed to be the needy one.

Bruce pushed a hand through Steve’s hair, pulling it out of the careful style, so that it tumbled across Steve’s forehead a little, the way it usually did. Steve leaned into his hand.

“Why don’t you get undressed and get on the bed,” Bruce said, voice a little rough with want. He could do this for Steve; he wanted to. More, he knew it wouldn’t have to be like this with Steve every time. He and Steve were both more even-keeled than Tony ever would be. This was something the two of them could trade back and forth between them.

Steve rose gracefully to his feet, and only the fact that Bruce was already naked, and so had nothing better to do than watch, let him notice that Steve’s hands weren’t quite steady as he stripped with quick, military efficiency. Steve shot a quick, nervous look at Bruce, but he moved over to the bed and sank down onto his back, his strong, lovely body stretched out and on offer to Bruce, his cock thick and ready.

“You’re amazing,” Steve said. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” And when Steve was being sincere, there was no way to doubt that he believed what he was saying. Bruce shuddered a little, a mixture of lust and pleasure at being told he was beautiful.

It was hard to believe, even with Steve saying it so baldly. Bruce had never considered himself beautiful - too scrawny, too nerdy, too nervous - but there was something about the way Steve said that made him _want_ to believe it. Not really knowing how to respond, he just moved over to the bed and crawled up so that he was lying stretched out along Steve, him up on his side, their bodies pressed together all the way down.

“Can I - “ Steve started to ask, his hands started to reach out, but he aborted both the motion and the question.

Bruce ducked his head to kiss Steve, just a quick brush of his lips over Steve’s, and then said, “Can you what? I literally cannot think of a single thing that you might want that I won’t agree to.”

Steve’s face colored, high on his cheekbones, and Bruce wanted to taste that blush, feel the heat. But instead he stayed steady, waiting patiently for Steve to decide what he wanted to ask.

“Can I touch you?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Bruce answered without even having to think about it. “Any way, anyhow you want.”

The sentence wasn’t even all the way out of his mouth before Steve’s hand came to rest on Bruce’s shoulder, tracing a light path down his arm to his hand. Bruce shivered a little at the touch, but Steve seemed to interpret it correctly, that it was something that Bruce liked, because he did it again, a little firmer.

The touch wasn’t particularly erotic in and of itself. But it was one of the first times that Steve had touched Bruce with intent, without Tony being present, and that made it one of the hottest things that had ever happened to Bruce. He let out a slow breath, trying to resist the urge to just rut against Steve. Based on what Steve had said, they had all night, and he didn’t have the refractory period Steve did.

He could feel Steve smile against his mouth, and then Steve repeated the touch, a little firmer, a little slower. His hand shifted from Bruce’s wrist to his hip, and then he started tugging, turning, pulling Bruce over so that he found himself braced on his forearms, his hips bracketed by Steve’s thighs, his face right above Steve’s.

It was intriguing. He didn’t come close to Steve in size, but like this, he felt protective, like he could keep out the world and make it just the two of them. He wondered if Steve felt the same. “Is this okay?” Steve asked, making Bruce choke back a laugh. It would have been incredibly tacky to laugh, he knew that, but only Steve would ask if this was okay.

“Very okay,” Bruce said, rolling his hips a little so that their cocks brushed together. Steve’s barely stifled moan gave him an idea. “Didn’t you say earlier that we have all night?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve answered, clearly baffled by the relevancy of the question. “Tony doesn’t expect to see me till morning.”

“Then there’s plenty of time to get you off more than once,” Bruce said with a grin. “So, how would you like me to get you off? Want me to suck you? Or just this?” He rolled his hips again, and Steve moaned again.

“That’s -” Steve swallowed harshly. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

Oh, Bruce was definitely going to _shake_ Tony tomorrow. Just because Steve was a quick study was no reason to skip the simple stuff. Besides, sometimes simple was best. “How about this? I’m going to just roll my hips like _this_ ,” he did it again, pressing a little firmer and ignoring his own rising need like an annoying itch, “While you touch me however you like.”

Steve blinked as though trying to clear his eyes, and looked up at Bruce. “That sounds perfect, actually,” he said, and Bruce leaned down to kiss him as a reward. He shifted slightly, so that Steve’s cock slotted neatly along the crease along his hip, and then started to move, slowly but with intent.

In answer, Steve brought up his hands, resting one over Bruce’s heart while the other sought out one of Bruce’s nipples, tweaking it lightly. Thankfully, Bruce had _excellent_ self-control, thank you, so it didn’t push him much closer to his own edge. Instead, he continued to move while kissing Steve thoroughly.

Oh, Steve was a quick study, that was for sure, because this time Steve’s kiss was as perfect as it was possible to be. Bruce realized that Steve was actually trying to kiss the way that Bruce did, showing that he was paying attention. They continued like that, hips moving, kissing, and then Steve started to shift his hands around, touching Bruce just about everywhere he could reach. 

At first the touch was slow, hesitant, like Steve was expecting to be waved off or told some place was out of bounds, but the longer it went on, the more confident Steve became. And that confidence led him all sorts of places, like down Bruce’s spine to his tailbone, back between them to Bruce’s nipple and all sorts of place that Bruce wouldn’t have called erotic previously, and he would have been wrong, because when Steve stroked his fingers along Bruce’s forearm, it nearly shattered his normally very good control.

But Steve’s control was breaking first, if the way he was panting was any indication. Steve’s hips rocked up, arrhythmic and frantic, and Bruce could feel the way that his muscles were tensing as if he was fighting off his orgasm. Breaking away from Steve’s mouth was painful, but he lowered his mouth to Steve’s ear and whispered, “Let it go, Steve. I can feel how badly you want to come.”

Steve whimpered, his hips coming completely off the bed and lifting them both, and then Bruce could feel the hot liquid of his release against his stomach and cock. “That’s it,” he said, as he continued to thrust, letting Steve move through the aftershocks. “It looked like you needed that.”

Steve, panting, blinked open his eyes. He was gorgeous, gaze a little unfocused, skin beaded with sweat. His hands were wrapped firmly around Bruce’s hips, and he tipped his chin up, an easily read request to be kissed that Bruce complied with quite willingly. 

Then he slid down Steve’s body and carefully licked away the stripes of come across Steve’s belly, tonguing the still mostly soft shaft of Steve’s cock. Steve moaned, and when Bruce glanced up at him, had his eyes clenched shut and his fists twisted into the sheets. “Look at me,” Bruce murmured, and Steve’s eyes opened obediently, blown dark with arousal. Bruce traced his tongue gently over Steve’s cock and then dipped it into his belly button, chasing the last remnants of Steve’s release.

“God,” Steve breathed hoarsely. “God.”

Bruce took advantage of Steve’s relaxed sprawl to touch, a little to return the favor, but mostly because Steve had been right. They hadn’t really explored each other like this, not without other concerns intruding, and the feel of Steve’s skin against Bruce’s palms was hot and smooth and perfect. Steve rocked up into Bruce’s hands, no matter where Bruce touched him, rocked and arched and made soft, mumbling noises of pleasure that wound the knot of desire in Bruce’s belly tighter with every murmur.

He wanted slow, he wanted to be more patient, but he got, just a little, how Tony must have felt. Steve’s body was lax and inviting, his knees spilling open as if in invitation, and it was impossible not to crave the heat of his body around Bruce’s cock.

“Can I fuck you?” Bruce asked, his voice low and as undemanding as he could make it, because he wanted it, but he would skip it altogether if it made Steve nervous or uncomfortable.

“It’ll be different,” Steve said, slurring just a little. 

“I’m not as impatient as Tony,” Bruce said. “That’s something you and I are going to have to work on with him. But, yes. It’ll be different.”

Steve nodded, but he curled his hands into Bruce’s hair, pulling, and Bruce dipped down into another scorching kiss, Steve’s lips and tongue a little frantic this time.

“I want to like it,” he whispered, his lips a bare half-inch from Bruce’s. “I want to like it like Tony likes it.” Bruce pulled back a little to look at Steve’s face. His eyes were still dark, but a little pleading now. “He’s gorgeous when he takes it. He’s... totally present, totally wanton. I want to feel like that.”

“I can do that,” Bruce reassured Steve, mostly sure that it was true.

“Do it to me,” Steve whispered hoarsely, and Bruce stilled for a bare second, hearing what Steve had said, guessing at what he meant by it. He was almost sure he’d been right, earlier. That Steve wanted to be the needy one for a change, that he wanted to understand what Tony got from it, and that he trusted Bruce to do that for him. Bruce’s heart pounded a little harder, but he bent over Steve and got the lube from the bedside table.

Steve’s breath hitched, but his thighs fell open, and Bruce would be careful, he would make it good, but even he didn’t have the fortitude to resist such a blatant invitation. “Roll over for me,” Bruce said a little hoarsely. “I want to show you something.”

Steve didn’t so much as hesitate, even when Bruce’s hands on his hips pulled him up onto his knees. 

Bruce slid his palms up the back of Steve’s thighs and cupped the gorgeous curves of his ass. He wondered if Tony had ever done this for him, and then decided it didn’t matter. It would ease Steve, relax him like nothing else could. He leant in and breathed gently against the cleft of his ass and Steve choked out a sound, surprise and uncertainty. “Trust me,” Bruce whispered. “Relax and trust me.”

Steve didn’t respond verbally, but that was fine. Bruce could feel Steve shivering but loosening a little, some of the tautness gone from the line of his spine and the big muscles in his thighs. 

Bruce leaned in and slid his tongue along the cleft of Steve’s ass, and Steve shuddered out a little gasp that felt like it wrapped itself around Bruce’s cock. He dipped in more deeply, spreading Steve with his hands, tongue sliding along the tight muscles of his hole. He was patient, he was slow, he had all night and he was willing to do anything and everything to make it good for Steve, but for all his willingness to be patient, Steve’s response was enough to make him heady with desire. He writhed against Bruce’s hands and pressed back, and when Bruce finally breached his hole, he groaned so deeply that Bruce had to run through some quick chemical equations to keep his mind off his own cock. 

“Bruce,” Steve whined, “Bruce, God,” and it made Bruce feel like a god himself at the way Steve’s voice sounded, wrecked and desperate. Bruce fucked Steve with his tongue until Steve was shuddering, his hole loose and eager. He pulled back from the close, musky taste of Steve with reluctance, and only because he didn’t want Steve to come this way.

Steve groaned out an objection, but made a high, surprised sound when Bruce replaced his mouth with a single well-lubed finger, which slid into Steve easily. Steve clamped down on it, trembling, but Bruce just waited, and Steve relaxed again, breathing heavily. Bruce pulled his finger partly free and pressed it back inside, and Steve choked out a sound of surprise again, this time mixed with pleasure. Bruce thought, with some satisfaction, that if Steve thought that was good, he was about to discover that it was the least of the good things Bruce had to offer. He crooked his finger, searching, and Steve arched abruptly, moaning aloud.

“Good, that’s good, Steve,” Bruce murmured, and worked his finger into him, barely grazing his prostate, until he felt like Steve could take another. When he lined it up with Steve’s hole, pressing gently, some last vestige of tension seemed to fall away from Steve, and Bruce’s second finger slid inside smoothly, encased in the tight heat of Steve’s body. Bruce ignored his own cock in favor of Steve’s lovely, welcoming ass, and shifted a little to one side as Steve rocked himself back on Bruce’s fingers. He could see Steve’s profile, head hanging down a little, sweat beaded on his skin. Steve’s mouth was open as though in waiting, and his eyes were closed. His hands were fists, and his cock swayed heavily between his legs, dark red and wanting. Bruce slid a hand down his spine and Steve arched up into it.

“Bruce,” Steve begged breathlessly. “Please, I want-”

“When you’re ready,” Bruce said gently, but he lubed another finger and tugged the others back, pressing against Steve’s fluttering hole. He was careful when he pressed them in, but Steve only groaned, shoulders flexing, thighs bunched. Bruce worked him open, stretched him, took the time and effort even after he was pretty sure Steve didn’t need any more. He wanted it to be next to painless.

“Steve,” he said finally, and Steve blew out a harsh breath as Bruce’s fingers stilled inside him.

“Please,” Steve said thickly.

“I want to know how you want to do this. This way is easiest, less likely to cause you discomfort, but I want to know how _you_ want it.” 

"I want to see you," Steve said, breathlessly. "I don't care about easy. I just want to know it's you."

Bruce felt his own breath hitch. When Steve was sincere, he was terrifyingly sincere. Bruce would have to be a saint to refuse, even if it would be easier with Steve on his knees. He shifted back and urged Steve over by tugging at one shoulder. Steve went easily; he was flushed and gorgeous, his gaze locked on Bruce as though he couldn't imagine looking anywhere else. He was entirely cooperative under Bruce's hands, shifting his hips up when Bruce tugged a pillow down under them, spreading his thighs wide. His cock was so red it looked angry, and Bruce resisted the urge to bend and put his mouth on it. Steve was already so obviously close, and Bruce wanted to be inside him when he came.

It only took a second to shift into position between Steve's splayed legs. As soon as Bruce was in place, Steve wrapped his legs around his waist, tugging him in even closer. Spreading lube on his cock made Bruce hiss at the coolness, but pulled him back from the edge he was teetering on. Dropping the tube to the bed, he leaned forward, his weight on one hand as he lined himself up with the other. "Promise me you'll tell me if it hurts," he said as he paused. 

"I promise," Steve said, but Bruce wasn't sure Steve actually would. He contented himself with the knowledge that Steve definitely wanted it, his hands on Bruce just this side of demanding, and Bruce was fairly confident he'd be able to tell if Steve was in trouble. 

"Okay," Bruce breathed, and shifted his hips, feeling the slick heat of Steve's opening against the head of his cock. "Try to relax as much as you can." Bruce pressed gently forward, willing Steve to stay nice and relaxed, gratified when he did. The head of Bruce's cock pushed past the tight ring of Steve's hole, and Bruce had to take a deep breath, going still both for Steve's sake and his own. Steve murmured something heavy with consonants, and tightened his legs around Bruce's waist. "Shh," Bruce said hoarsely. "Give yourself a minute. Give _me_ a minute."

Steve's eyes were locked on Bruce's, and that more than the sensation of being just inside Steve made it hard to breathe. He wanted to close his eyes so that he could center himself, get some control back, but that seemed somehow unfair to Steve. So instead he took a slow, deep breath and let it out again. He was gratified to see that Steve did the same thing, just a second behind him. As Steve breathed out, he relaxed even further, and Bruce pushed in just a little bit more. They continued to breathe together, and with every exhale Bruce got in a little deeper, till he was finally in all the way.

Steve's eyes never left his. Bruce had watched carefully and seen no sign of pain on his face, just desire and need. It was enough to reassure Bruce that this really was going to work. But just to be sure, he asked, "Steve? You doing okay?" 

“Bruce,” Steve slurred. His hands clenched on Bruce’s shoulders, then slid down to tighten on his upper arms. His eyes were dark, hazy, but still urgent. He leaned up and mouthed at Bruce’s neck. “Don’t stop.” His voice was almost a gasp.

Bruce shuddered and drew back, unwillingly but completely enthralled by the whine of need in Steve’s voice, at the way it was directed at _him_ , at the way he hadn’t ever heard it before, not quite like this, not this kind of helpless desperation. Bruce leaned down and kissed Steve briefly, just a brush of lips, enough to feel Steve’s hot breath panting against Bruce’s mouth. He shifted back slightly, intending to ease back inside, but Steve let out a low groan and arched up, catching Bruce by surprise, sending his hips into an instinctive thrust that he would have chosen to be more gentle, had he the mental capacity. But Steve just groaned out something lovely and wordless, his whole body quivering around Bruce’s cock. 

“Christ,” Bruce said, suddenly feeling overheated, his balls tight with want.

“Like that,” Steve said, and then, “Harder than that,” he disagreed with himself.

Bruce wanted nothing more than to do it harder than that, but he wasn’t at all sure that Steve knew what he was asking for. He thrust in gently again -- Steve’s hands tightened on Bruce’s arms, fingertips sinking almost painfully into the muscle, but Bruce made no objection. He rocked inside, hot at the tight burn of being inside Steve, almost as hot as Steve’s reaction, which was to toss his head back and groan open-throatedly, a sound that wasn’t at all ambiguous.

“I want,” Steve said. “Bruce, please, I want.” He rocked up into Bruce’s next thrust, their bodies clashing roughly, and Steve let out a low wail that Bruce couldn’t bring himself to resist.

He rocked in deeper, and Steve hissed and dragged his knees up to his chest, and Bruce bottomed out with the kind of pleasure that people talked about in books and movies, nothing Bruce had ever really felt before, his body feeling like a strummed chord, all ripples of pleasure and washes of desire. Leaning forward, practically bending Steve in half, he took Steve’s mouth in a messy kiss. 

Bruce was rapidly losing what little control he still had left, and when Steve keened into his mouth, it disappeared. He started to move faster, giving Steve what he was demanding with voice and body. It was incredible, it was overwhelming, and he could suddenly see why it was over too fast when Tony was on top with Steve, because the intensity was blinding.

It took will that Bruce didn’t even know he had to slow down, because if he didn’t, it was going to end too quick for them as well. Steve groaned again, his hands scrabbling at Bruce’s back as he slowed. “No, no,” Steve said, his voice ragged. “I can take it. Don’t stop.”

“Not stopping,” Bruce gritted out. “But I want to last. And I want you to last. So take a deep breath, okay?”

Rather than obeying, Steve clenched down tight around him, his arms locked around Bruce so that there was no chance he could pull back. It was Bruce’s turn to whimper, but he was determined, so he pushed in deep and _stayed there_. “Deep breath, Steve. C’mon,” he cajoled.

The sound Steve made was pure frustration, but he obediently pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then did it again without prompting. “Sorry,” he said. “Just... you feel so good inside me.”

“Trust me, it’s feeling pretty fucking amazing from this end,” Bruce said. “But I want to last a bit longer, and at the rate we were going that wasn’t going to happen.” Now that Steve didn’t seem so on edge, he pulled back slowly, almost all of the way out, and then pushed back in.

From the look on Steve’s face, he had the angle right, the pressure right, and Bruce took a deep breath of his own before doing it again. This time, the pace that he set was one that he thought he could maintain for at least a few minutes. He could still reach Steve’s mouth - thankfully, even as muscular as he was, Steve was awfully bendy - and so he kissed him. 

Unlike his slow, methodical thrusts, there was nothing restrained about the kiss. He licked his way into Steve’s mouth and kissed him hard. The kiss was absolutely _filthy_ , their tongues tangling, biting at each other’s lips, but his hips kept moving at a steady pace.

Steve’s hands were moving all over him, stroking and touching. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to it, and honestly, Bruce wasn’t even sure that Steve knew he was doing it. It didn’t matter, though, since it all felt good.

When Steve started to breathe hard, panting as though he’d been running a race, Bruce knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer. Pulling away from Steve’s mouth was hard, but it let him wrap a hand around Steve’s cock even as he started to speed up. 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Steve said. His hips were coming up to meet Bruce’s every thrust, his balls were drawn up tight, and it was obvious that he was close. The expression on Steve’s face, the naked desire and want and need, grabbed Bruce by the scruff of his neck and shook him, and suddenly his hard-won control vanished in the space of one thrust.

He slammed in, deep and hard and arrhythmic, but it didn’t seem to be a bad thing, from the way that Steve hissed, “Yes,” and his cock jumped in Bruce’s hand. It didn’t take much, a half dozen hard thrusts, and Steve was coming over Bruce’s fist, his hole clenching tight around Bruce’s cock.

Bruce knew he should slow down, gentle his thrusts, see if Steve wanted him to stop. But there was no way in hell that was going to happen unless Steve actually told him to stop, not as close as he was. So instead he continued to move, which was something that Steve apparently approved of if the expression on his face meant anything.

He was almost... almost... “Oh, fuck,” he cried as his orgasm ripped through him, turning him inside out. With a loud groan, he emptied himself inside Steve, his hips continuing to move through the aftershocks as he came and came and came.

Finally, though, he started to pull back, only to have Steve’s arms tighten around him again. “I’m just going to pull out,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Steve shook his head. “Stay?” he said. “I can take your weight.”

Bruce nodded shakily, but helped Steve lower his legs first. His cock slipped out as Steve moved, but Bruce still relaxed on top of Steve, letting him feel Bruce’s weight anchoring him to the bed. Bruce felt boneless and sated in ways that he couldn’t remember happening in a long time.

“Good?” he murmured into Steve’s ear.

“ _Amazing_ ,” Steve answered. “When can we do it again?”

Bruce chuckled. “Well, we have all night.”

“That we do.” Next thing he knew, Steve had wrapped his arms and legs around Bruce and neatly reversed their positions so that Bruce was on his back underneath Steve. “So, after we eat some more sushi, how do you feel about trying it the other way?”

Smiling, Bruce said, “I think that sounds like a great plan.” 

They climbed out of bed eventually, and slid into their boxers, but didn’t bother with anything else before going to the kitchen and pulling out the boxes of sushi, which they set up at the kitchen bar to eat. Neither one of them seemed to be able to stop touching the other. They kept getting distracted from the tasty food, and eventually it got abandoned to return to the bedroom.

When Steve wrapped himself around Bruce, enveloping him in warmth, Bruce let himself relax into the sensation. As Steve peppered Bruce’s face and neck with soft kisses, Bruce pushed his boxers down and away, encouraging Steve to allow his hands to drift down to Bruce’s ass.

Steve returned to Bruce’s mouth, pulling him in tight as they tangled their tongues together. His hands squeezed Bruce’s ass, tight enough that Bruce suspected that there would probably be faint bruises. Bruce was just fine with that idea, actually.

Bruce saw no reason to just stand there passively, though, and so he slid his hands under the waistband of Steve’s boxers, pushing them to the floor as well. Steve’s cock sprung out, half hard, and rubbing against Bruce’s stomach as Steve did his best to take Bruce apart with his mouth.

When Steve pulled back, Bruce chased after his mouth blindly, not wanting the kiss to stop, but Steve laughed, breathlessly, and said, “I thought I was going to return the favor?”

“Fuck. Yes. Right now, in fact,” Bruce said, and started squirming to get loose from Steve’s arms, who let him go after a brief hesitation. Grabbing the lube off the nightstand, he handed it over to Steve and said, “How do you want me?”

Steve guided him down so that he was lying on his side, his ass tucked up against Steve’s front. “Is this okay?” Steve asked.

“More than,” Bruce said. “Just don’t make me wait too long.”

“Trust me, I’m not going to,” Steve said. Bruce heard the cap of the lube pop off, and Steve shifted so that he could get a hand down between them, his slick finger circling around Bruce’s hole, just stroking around the outside without making any effort to push inside yet. 

Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to stay calm and relaxed, and was rewarded when Steve slowly pushed his finger inside. It had been far too long since Bruce had been fucked, and he was tight, tighter than he remembered being. Steve didn’t say anything, though. He just slowly fucked Bruce with one finger until Bruce had started to loosen. 

“Ready for another?” Steve asked, his voice hushed.

Not trusting his voice, Bruce nodded. Steve pulled his finger out entirely, but before Bruce could process the loss, Steve had come back with two. They slid in easier, and when Steve pressed them against Bruce’s prostate, he whimpered in the pleasure washing through him. 

He thought about telling Steve not to bother with any more, but Steve was proportional in just about every way, and while the idea of being sore sounded good in the abstract, it wouldn’t be as much fun when he was trying to work in the lab. So instead, he bit his lip and pushed back against Steve’s hand, encouraging him to go a little faster, a little deeper.

A third finger made him hiss and glad that he’d waited, because it was almost too much at first. Steve was patient, though, opening Bruce like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t hard and pressed against Bruce’s low back. He had no idea where Steve had gotten this supply of patience from, because he was going slowly crazy with want. Finally, though, Steve’s fingers were moving easily, and he pulled them out, leaving Bruce to groan at the empty feeling. 

He could feel Steve slicking up his cock, and shifting down, and then his hand came down behind Bruce’s knee, urging him to press it up against his chest, opening him up so that Steve could line up his cock and press inside slowly. 

It was one long, slow, perfect slide to get Steve inside, and Bruce’s breath caught in his chest. “God,” he murmured as Steve rocked just a little, just an inch or two. “So good.”

“Pretty good from this side too,” Steve said, and Bruce would have taken it as teasing if it wasn’t for how breathless he sounded. Steve started to move, taking Bruce apart one slow inch at a time.

Given the mind-blowing orgasms from earlier, Bruce should have been able to last. But it didn’t look like it was going to work out that way, because the head of Steve’s cock was rubbing right across Bruce’s prostate, making him whimper. Steve’s hand spread across Bruce’s chest, the palm covering one nipple, holding him stable and Bruce twisted in his arms, trying to turn enough that Steve could reach his mouth to kiss him.

It wasn’t comfortable when he managed it, but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to care. He had Steve’s cock in his ass, Steve’s tongue in his mouth, and it was so good - he could see why Tony loved bottoming to Steve if this was the kind of care that Steve showed him every time.

As they kissed, Steve’s hand slid down from Bruce’s chest to his cock, circling it and stroking it in the same slow rhythm as Steve’s hips. Bruce could feel his orgasm already starting to build, and he welcomed it as it rose up his spine.

When it hit, it wasn’t the forceful thing from earlier but a slow drop into pleasure so deep that Bruce thought he was going to drown from it. He could hear Steve groan as his hips jerked, driving his cock even deeper, and he clenched down, trying to intensify Steve’s pleasure, but that was as much as he was capable of.

Steve slid out slowly, bringing a moan from both of them, and started to move as if he was going to go get something to clean up. But Bruce turned over and wrapped an arm over Steve, trying to hold him in place.

Bruce found himself completely wiped out. All he wanted was to curl up with Steve and sleep for about a year, and Steve seemed to want the same thing if the way that he didn’t struggle at all meant anything.

Bruce was asleep within minutes.

He woke briefly about four in the morning, a little overheated, to discover that Steve had him held tightly and apparently gave off heat like a furnace. As soon as he realized the source of the heat, though, it didn’t seem to matter as much, so he laid back in the circle of Steve’s arms and went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was at a soft knock at the door. He had to untangle himself from Steve and pull on his boxers before going over to answer it, but the noise continued at irregular intervals as he did so.

He was pretty sure what he’d find when he opened the door, and was completely unsurprised that it was Tony knocking. “Did I wake you?” Tony asked, a wide grin on his face.

“Yes,” Steve answered from behind Bruce. That was all the warning that Bruce got before Steve took his shoulder in one hand and turned him enough to brush a kiss over his lips. “Didn’t your mother teach you it was rude to interrupt?” Steve continued after the kiss.

“There’s interrupting going on?” Tony said, voice joking but eyes serious. “I can come back later.”

“No,” Bruce said. “Why don’t you go ahead and come in?”

“Okay,” Tony said, sliding past them without an argument. Bruce shut the door as soon as he was all the way inside, and turned to find that Tony was standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the kitchen bar where the remains of their sushi sat, dried out. “So, did you guys have fun?”

“Yes,” Steve said again, but this time he crossed to where Tony stood and kissed him. “Relax, would you? We had a good time.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad,” Tony said. “I really wanted you to have a good time. You know, together. Without me. You know.”

Bruce chuckled a little. “Tony, you’re babbling. Seriously, you’re going to sprain something if you don’t just spit it out.”

Steve reached out one long arm and caught Bruce, tugging until they were all standing close, both Tony and Bruce wrapped up by Steve. The contact seemed to calm Tony, who took a deep breath and said, “Well?”

“Well, what?” Steve said, his expression pure smartass.

“Well, are we going to do this or what?” Tony demanded.

Bruce met Tony’s eyes, and then turned to meet Steve’s. “You know, I really think we are.”


End file.
